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Session 1
Captain Rafael Giuliani sighed as he stared at the flag of the ship just off the Wavedancer's stern, hoping that it would magically stop carrying the Vaticine Cross. Théus was not kind; no miracles or unexpected kraken got in the way of what was definitely going to be bad news. He'd become used to the somewhat unusual group of paying passengers he'd collected in his journey round Théah, and very protective of the small bundle of veils and black lace who was his primary duty this trip; and the Church did not always look kindly on the unusual, and definitely didn't appreciate the vicious beauty of the Vodacce strega at work. Said strega sniffed sharply as she lurked in his shadow, sensing the increase of tension in his shoulders as he rested his hands on the railing. "What is it?" Ariadne Caligari, betrothed to a man she'd not yet met, was, Rafael had learnt, insatiably curious - a trait he shared more than somewhat. "Trouble." As the priest and his twenty-man entourage scrambled on board, Magdalena Zelle rolled her shoulders and resettled her zweihander; the twelve Doppel they'd brought aboard were a threat in the close quarters of the ship. Six of the others may well have been wearing church robes, but moved like fighters; one giant of a man stood near with the uncomfortable look of an Objectionist in badly-fitting Vaticine habit, and a twitchy, wild-eyed priest waved a very heavy censer on the end of a chain, perfumed smoke roiling around the deck as he intoned the High Théan chant that traditionally preceded an exorcism. As for the man himself, he was smooth and middle-aged and Castilian and currently handing Rafael a scroll with the look of a requisition order about it. Don Sebastien de Ruiz de Navarone's eyes were usually empty, his fights to a metronome only he can hear, with none of the passion a true Aldana master needs. For a few seconds, though, seeing the priest, he'd come almost alive. "Inquisition. My life on it." His hand rested gently on his newly-sharpened sword as he plotted how best to deal with the incursion. "And the captain informing us we're on our best behaviour. What a shame..." As the introduction wore on, the last passengers watched. Euan Renwick and Alexander Siev Irinavich were noticeable apart, but together they took up most of the landscape. Two giants, one red-headed Highlander and one spectactularly moustached Ussuran, both bearing weaponry that most people would have trouble lifting, they loomed against the skyline as they watched from the upper deck; not least as Euan continued his stalwart tradition of always being where the Fate Witch wasn't. Their assessment of the churchman's appearance was a little less martial than the Kriegers', but no less careful. When the Eisen giant in the churchman's robes stomped away from his masters, Euan swung down to find out more, Avalon charm and knightly grace both obvious in his friendly smile. Heinrich, the Eisein introduced himself as; and his bellowed confidences echoed over the waves. "I do not know why there are so many of us; but the little priest with the censer is very fond of fire!" As night rolled in, Sebastien and Lena lurked in a sail locker, he with pistols primed, she cracking knuckles as they waited for news. Rafael wasn't long in gathering the rest of the passengers to pass on the news, his polite facade barely covering a simmering anger. "We've been kindly requested to go to a Syrneth ruin in the Schwarzwald, and... help burn out all the heretics who may be exploring it. As a good Vodacce, I can't say no to the Church - even if they are Inquisition." Lena, in an action old enough to be habit, flicked a small coin to Sebastien - he caught it without looking and tucked it away. Alexander frowned, and muttered in Ussuran to the captain; "It sounds like there are little birds overhead..." A grim smile crossed Rafael's face, as he pulled out his own flintlock. "Little birds are easily scared off by big bangs." The gunshot echoed through the small room, and everyone could hear the thudding feet. Sebastien, faster off the mark - or more ready for trouble - than the others, was out the door to intercept them almost before the echo faded. Outside, he faced the priest - a Montaigne, who sneered at the Castilian's well-worn clothes. It wasn't more than a clash of words till the priest-soldier laughed. "I remember where I know your face from - I saw it in a woman's locket. She screamed when we put her to the question." Sebastien's eyes flashed, and it was only Euan's sudden appearance, huge and shining in the dark, that stopped him skewering the Montaigne there and then. The priest blanched and stepped back a pace. "Coward. Cur. Woman-killer." The duelist's words were sharper than his sword; and there was only so much the Montaigne could tolerate. He threw his glove to the floor. "At dawn. We'll see who's the coward then..." Rafael and the Inquisitor disussed the duel, both of them trying to pacify the combatants - neither of them succeeding. The Duelists' Guild was the final arbiter in these matters, and neither of them were members. The best they managed was a promise to take the fight off the ship, to the next place they'd land - and as Sebastien grudgingly agreed to this, the ship heeled over, Euan and Heinrich's brute strength raising sail after sail to speed her on her way as the wind rose. "Just to first blood, at least; please, I beg you." Rafael wasn't one for begging - but his livelihood, his reputation, and the safety of the girl he'd promised to bring to her husband and grown to care for as a sister all stood in the balance. Sebastien's only response was a fierce smile. They grounded the long boats on the pebbled beach shortly after dawn. The two fighters settled into crouches, blades bright; Sebastien with his fencing blade, left hand tapping out the hidden beat of the Aldana, bright with the joy of the hunt; the Montaigne with the rapier and main gauche of the Valroux, glittering in the dawn. Euan stood between them and told a tale - the tale of a knight of the Graal, of Avalon, of legend. Of a man whose tongue got him into trouble, and whose blade saw him through to glory. Of the man who stood behind him, whose story echoed that knight's, and who would be just as capable and more to end this. There was a ripple of applause and a murmur of appreciation - not just from the Wavedancer's crew and passengers, but also among the Doppel who supported the Inquisitors. A hasty discussion led to Heinrich being pushed forward to do his duty. "This Montaigne... He is not bad?" Sebastien's opponent almost winced. As the duel began, Alexander's eyes swept the treeline, frowning as the branches bent and whispered in a breeze impossible to feel elsewhere. He missed Sebastien's flourish and feint - and the neat and perfect thrust that skewered deep into the Montaigne's eye. The man staggered back with a wail, tripping and falling to his knees. "Is this what she screamed like?" Sebastien lifted his blade - and the Montaigne's hand dipped into his jacket. Euan grabbed his wrist, hauling his shoulder back as Rafael raised his pistol. "You've both had your bout. This is over. For trying to cheat in a duel, I sentence you to death by hanging." A faint and horrible laughter echoed across the beach. Alexander's vigilant gaze caught a shadowy figure; and Lena pulled on a panzerhand and loosed her sword. The Montaigne hissed in pain, hauling himself away from Euan's grip and starting to run - as a single shot rang out, his hands flew up and he fell face down into the sand. Lena ran towards him as Alexander raised his axe and stepped in between the group on the beach and the forest's edge. She stabbed the dead Montaigne with something that looked nothing at all like a blade, and the laughter ceased with a hiss. Alexander's face was grim as death as he stepped closer to the creature in the dark. Ariadne twitched and scurried back to behind Rafael, gloved fingers beckoning the sailors away - a gesture they were only too keen to follow. Its last hiss was words, chilly and echoing in the dawn light. "I will wait for you, under the trees..." Category:Plot